nified and so--very different from--" but again she found
herself unable to finish her sentence.

"From a 'dear pickpocket?'" he suggested.

"Did I say 'dear pickpocket'?" cried Madge in consternation. "I didn't
know I said 'dear.'"

"I suppose you desired to make a favourable impression, in order to
get your picture back. There are some very good points about the
picture," he remarked, as he took it out of the case and examined it.
"There's a good deal of drawing in it, and considerable colour."

"Do you know about pictures?" asked Madge with eager interest.

"Not much. I've heard more or less art-jargon in my day; that's all."

Madge looked at him suspiciously.

"I am sure you will agree with me that I don't know much," he
continued, "when I tell you that I prefer your pen-and-ink work to the
miniature. 'The Consequences of Crime' is full of humour; and I have
been given to understand that you can't produce an effect without
skill,--what you would probably dignify with the name of technique.
The second small boy on the right is not at all bad."

"You do know about art!" cried Madge. "I rather think you must be an
artist."

Mr. Spriggs did not exactly change countenance; he only looked as if
he were either trying to smile or trying not to. Madge wished she
could make out just what were the lines and shadows in his face that
produced this singular expression.

"Have you never thought of doing anything for the papers?" he asked.

"Thought of it! I've spent four dollars and sixty-one cents in postage
within the last ten months, and he always comes back to the ark!"

"'He'? Comes back where?"

"To the ark. I call the package 'Noah's Dove' because it never finds a
place to roost."

"The original dove did, after a while." Mr. Spriggs spoke as if he
were taking the serious, historical view of the incident. "I imagine
yours will, one of these days. Have you got anything you could show
me?"

"Would you really care to see?"

"I can't tell till you show me," he said cautiously; but this time
there was something so very like a smile among the stern features that
Madge could see just what the line was that produced it.

She flew to her room, and seized Noah's Dove, and in five minutes that
much-travelled bird had spread his wings,--all six of them,--for the
delectation of this mysterious critic.

Madge watched him, as he leaned back in his chair and examined the
sketches. He seemed inclined to take his time o